Yan Bai was fourteen years old when he returned to Beijing. He sat in the sedan chair and looked at the brightly lit capital city shrouded in night. Chang'an Street was bustling with activity. His eyes fell on the well-dressed ladies in the crowd, on the young masters in brocade robes, and on the naughty children who shuttled like fish in the crowd. Yan Bai smiled softly. After six years of suffering, six years of swallowing his anger, he held back just to get back to this moment. Six years spanned the long river of memory, and he knew he could never go back. Yan Bai smiled and burst into tears. He coughed lightly. Yan Bai heard Hua Yun's brisk voice outside the sedan, "Master, we are finally here." Finally, we are here.